


falling into place

by furyofthetimelords



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Coming Out, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Misunderstandings, POV Alternating, Pining, Slow Build, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 15:04:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7272907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/furyofthetimelords/pseuds/furyofthetimelords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your soulmark doesn’t settle until you’ve met your soulmate. </p><p>Neither Jack or Eric notice when it happens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	falling into place

**Author's Note:**

> In the process of writing this, I mostly followed the canon timeline, but fudged some details and dropped a bunch of things in order to suit my own narrative purposes. I'm also not sure how it got this long, since I wrote it meaning to be a quick little prompt fill for the [omgcp-tropechallenge](https://omgcp-tropechallenge.tumblr.com/) tumblr 'soulmate au' prompt.

Eric’s mark settles on his first day at Samwell. In his excitement, he doesn’t even notice until he gets back to the dorms late at night. He freezes when he sees it, heart hammering in his chest as he takes in the sight of that still, clear mark on his skin.

He’s been waiting for this day, like all people do. For years, he has been watching his mark shift and change, willing it to settle down with every new person he met. But even so, he just didn’t expect it to happen now – day one of college and he’s already met his soulmate. Eric swoons, falls down on his bed and studies the Soulmark on his wrist.

It doesn’t give much away – it’s a one in simple, clean lines like something he might find on the back of an athlete’s jersey. It makes something in his chest hurt when he thinks about the hockey team he’s about to join and all the other athletes he’s met today ( _maybe_ , he thinks _, just maybe_ ). Of all the things he’s imagined his mark may settle as, it’s far from anything he’s ever dreamed of.

Eric traces it again and again, memorising the shape of it. He’s going to need to be on the lookout for his soulmate now, especially since he has no idea what they look like. For some people, they figure it out as soon as the mark settles. But of course it’s Eric’s luck that he’s met so many new faces today he’s missed out on that moment.

 _I’ll find them tomorrow_ , he promises himself. Eric knows he’ll work it out eventually – a person’s Soulmark isn’t supposed to be mysterious. If anything, it’s meant to be your compass, the thing that will guide you to your perfect other half. Soulmates aren’t made to be apart – everyone knows that.  

He’s heard all kinds of stories about meeting your match – of people whose eyes meeting across a crowded room and just _knowing_ the instant their Soulmark settles. But real life doesn’t work like that – real life means waiting and putting together the clues – not only the meaning of Soulmark itself, but also someone you _connect_ with in a way no other person in the world can match.  Of course, Eric’s heard all the sad stories too – of missed chances and marks that never quite settle – but he’s already halfway to finding his perfect other half. He just needs to find this person again, and then everything else will fall into place.

//

“Bro…. your mark has totally settled!” Shitty exclaims, lying mostly naked on Jack’s bed and smelling strongly of weed. He’d wandered in about half an hour ago, rambling on about the importance of intersectional feminism.

“What?” Jack says and looks up from the practice essay he was typing.

“Your Soulmark,” Shitty says and tugs at Jack’s arm. “It’s a fucking hockey puck.”

“Oh,” Jack says, staring at the newly settled shape on his forearm, just below the crease of his elbow; it’s a strange sight. “It’s a little dented.”

“What? No, it’s not,” Shitty says, but then his eyes light up. “Maybe that’s part of the clue! Did you break a puck or something today?”

Jack shakes his head. “I don’t know who it is,” he says, feeling a little stupid. He’s met a whole lot of new people today – the new frogs on the team, and various other athletes in all sorts of different sports getting ready for the pre-season.

“That’s, that’s so sad,” Shitty says and pulls Jack in for a hug. He’s crying, and Jack feels a damp patch on his shoulder, but he doesn’t mind. A high Shitty is someone who’s even more affectionate than normal, and it’s best just to let it play out, though he knows if he felt at all uncomfortable Shitty would back off.

“I guess it is,” Jack replies. “ But I’ll work it out.”

“Of fuckin’ course we will, you beautiful man, Zimmermann. I’m not gonna let your fucking soulmate slip through your fingers. They’re fucking _blessed_ to have a god like you. I’m jealous.”

“You’ve got Lardo,” Jack reminds him.

Shitty nods, and visibly brightens at the mention of his soulmate. “I damn well do. Best bro there is,” he assures Jack. “I miss her.”

“She’ll be back soon,” Jack says.

“I don’t like being apart,” Shitty mumbles and rolls back onto his side of the bed. “Doesn’t feel right. But she had to go. I wasn’t gonna stop her.”

“You could’ve gone with her.”

Shitty shakes his head. “Nah,” he says. “She’s doing her thing.”

Jack, not for the first time, tries to imagine what his supposed other half would be like. Would they be his opposite? Or someone almost exactly like him? There are a lot of theories out there – your soulmate is a matched half, a perfect mirror-opposite or the thing that _completes_ you. Some part of him wonders – if he’d met his soulmate earlier, would he be here now?

He tries to think about some interaction or meeting that might have been important today, some other special clue that would’ve given away the identity of his soulmate. First meetings are supposed to be important, right?

//

Days and weeks pass by, and Eric settles into life at Samwell University.  It’s better than anything he could’ve imagined – he’s fitting in with the hockey team (even earning the nickname “Bitty” thanks to his surname of Bittle), baking whenever he wants (apparently the Samwell Men’s Hockey team owns a house, which is admittedly somewhat disgusting, but Eric’s determined to make it _work_. He’s not going to let a free oven go to waste no matter the state of the rest of the house).

Most of his vlogs now are filled with excited chatter about life as a member of the Samwell Men’s Hockey team in between discussions of how to make the perfect piecrust. He can’t help it – everything's just go _great_. But.

There’s just a few small problems; just little things, really.

For one, no one on the team knows he’s gay. Samwell is of course hailed as the #1 LGBTQ friendly university in the US (which may or may not have been an incentive to move all the way out to Massachusetts. Seeing a rainbow flag displayed so proudly in the college brochure had made his heart ache when he first saw it) and the team themselves are great. None of them ever resort to using the slurs that Eric was used to hearing in locker rooms. In fact, one the guys on the team, Shitty (who Eric doesn’t actually know the real name of), is often quick to call out any sort of homophobic behaviour he sees anywhere and often rants about ‘bro culture’ and ‘toxic masculinity’. So, logically, he knows he’s got a good chance of them taking it well.

But he never says anything. He wants to – going to Samwell, he promised himself he’d say it out loud and stop hiding. And he’ll get there. One day, but just not now.

His second problem is one Jack Zimmermann, the captain of the Samwell Men’s Hockey Team. Eric doesn’t like to complain, but Jack is something of a thorn in his side. The first time they’d met, Eric had been a little struck at how attractive Jack was. And when they’d first skated together, Eric’s heart had jumped in his chest when he saw Jack’s number was one.

But those hopes didn’t last, and Eric was left feeling a little disappointed. Clearly, this whole soulmate thing wasn’t going to be as easy to figure out as he thought, so he pushes away and tries to focus on hockey.

He tries not to take Jack’s complaints to heart – after all, the rest of the team are wonderful people and he’s starting to really like them, even if they are the sorts of people Eric never would’ve gone near in Madison. But Jack Zimmermann was not going to let Eric be – he’d often make comments on Eric’s form and even at one memorable time telling Eric to “eat more protein” at breakfast one day.

So, perhaps without meaning to, Jack Zimmermann gets under Eric’s skin. He hates being singled out and yelled at, knowing he’s the cause of anger in Jack’s eyes every time he faints the moment anyone gets close enough to check him.

He knows it’s a problem (his hockey team in high school had had a strict no-checking rule, but college hockey is something else entirely), knows he might end up getting kicked off the team if he doesn’t improve more. For now, he’s getting by, but he knows if he doesn’t start to work on it before their first game, he might not even get on the line, or even worse, dropped from the team.

 _Maybe that’d make Jack happy_ , he thinks bitterly after practice one day where Jack had yelled at him for fainting again. The first few times, nobody said much, but when they figured out there’s a pattern to it, Eric had to excuse himself to get away from the looks people were giving him. He didn’t need anyone’s pity.

So, it’s a complete surprise when he gets a knock on his door at four in the morning on a Sunday to see one illegally awake Jack Zimmerman standing there.

“Bittle,” Jack says, completely forging any sort of decent greeting. “Get your stuff – we’re going to Faber.”

Eric blinks. “What?” he says sleepily. Jack’s words don’t make sense. He wonders if this is a dream.

“You need to get over your mental block.”

“It’s four am,” Eric says.

Jack just shrugs. “We need to get going.”

Eric wants to complain, but he remembers the discussion he had with Coaches Hall and Murray earlier in the week. “Give me a minute,” Eric says and goes to grab a clean shirt and his phone, composing an annoyed tweet as he dresses himself.

Faber is a strange place at four am. It’s not like Eric’s never been in an ice rink this early before, but there’s something about being here alone with Jack that makes this experience a whole lot different.

They skate around for a while in silence, and suddenly Jack comes up beside him, clearly intending to push him into the boards and Eric just

Stops.

“Bittle! You okay?” Jack asks.

Eric shakes his head and pulls himself up off the ice. “What was _that_?”

“I wasn’t even going to hit you that hard,” Jack replies, defensive.

“You could’ve warned me.”

“You’re not always going to get much warning, Bittle.”

“Is this your plan? Throw me into the boards all day?”

“Well, not all day,” Jack replies. “You’re a good player – you’re the fastest guy on the team, but this checking thing is keeping you from being a better one.”

Eric blinks at the unexpected praise. “Oh,” he says, unsure of what else to say. It’s not like he’s unaware of his own strengths (Katia, his former ice skating coach, had always been incredibly firm about the importance of self-confidence), but to have _Jack_ of all people say it throws him off.

“Do you want to try that again?” Jack asks.

“I don’t really have a choice,” Eric replies.

//

“You ever gonna find them?” Shitty asks, flopping onto Jack’s bed. He’s wearing underwear this time at least.

Jack shakes his head. “I don’t know,” he admits. “Hockey’s more important.”

Shitty puts a hand on Jack’s arm. He doesn’t touch the Soulmark, but his hand is close enough to make a point. “Maybe they’ll help. It’s been awhile since that settled.”

“I…there’s too much to think about, Shits,” Jack says, shaking his head. He can’t afford to waste time on finding someone now. Not when his entire future is on the line. He won’t let his team down because he’s too wrapped up in thoughts of a soulmate. Everyone builds up finding them like it’s the most important thing you could ever do. Jack’s never quite understood that – he thought he might, but even now, with his mark settled he still feels the same.

“You know, we’re all here for you.”

“I know that.”

Shitty thankfully lets the subject drop, though Jack still thinks about it. Is he being a coward? For a long time, he never thought he’d meet his soulmate. Or even get one. He watched so many of his other peers find one, while Jack’s mark remained stubbornly blurry that he’d started to think that maybe he just wasn’t meant to meet anyone.

But the hockey puck on his arm says otherwise. He’s _met_ them, seen them and stood in the same space; they’re out there somewhere. Jack wonders if they’re waiting for him to make a move. Or maybe it’s up to him to figure that out?

He’s not sure how he’s supposed to do that. There’s not much a hockey puck can tell him – his whole life is hockey. He’d think it might be someone he’s yet to meet, but the fact the mark is there at all – that it’s not an indistinct blur – is proof that’s not quite true.

Part of him feels like he should be more desperate, that he should pay more attention and find this person once and for all. But Jack can’t just abandon hockey to search for someone he isn’t sure he’ll meet again. There’s too much riding on this to break focus now. He knows better than most how a moment’s weakness can ruin everything. It’s why he’s here at Samwell at all, and he can’t let that weakness happen again, not in any way, shape or form.

//

Things get better. It takes him a while, but Eric comes out.

The first time he tries it out, it’s with Shitty. Eric has a speech planned and written nearly on cue cards, but when it comes down to it, he’s a bundle nerves and he shakes so badly that he drops all his notes before finally blurting out the truth.

“I’m gay,” he says, the words just flying out. For a horrible half second, he wishes he’d never said anything. But then the relief of finally having said _something_ settles over him and he feels inexplicably lighter.

“Oh, okay, thanks for telling me,” Shitty says.

Eric blinks. “You…you’re not mad?”

“Fuck no, brah,” Shitty replies. “I’m on your team – we got your back on and off the ice.”

From there, the news gets around and nobody has a single problem with it, except perhaps for Ransom and Holster who are mostly concerned with the fact that they kept picking out the wrong kind of dates for Eric to take to the Winter Screw

“You’ve totally been giving us the wrong data,” Ransom says. “But don’t worry Bitty, we’ll find you the _perfect_ dude.”

Eric wants to show them his mark and tell them he’s probably already found the perfect guy, but he’s not sure how to mention it without sounding ridiculous. He’s heard enough lectures from Shitty about the importance of not assuming anything from your soulmate to know that a platonic match is still an incredibly valid option and not at all second-rate. Ransom and Holster, as it turns out, are the perfect example of a platonic pair (though, privately, Eric sometimes wonders if there might not be more there) and perhaps only rivalled by Shitty and Lardo for how in sync they are. Eric can’t even imagine being that comfortable with another human being.

Things with Jack get better too – Eric thinks they’re sort of friends now. Jack yells at him less, and seems to be friendlier outside of practice. More often than not now, Jack goes with Eric after their checking clinics to get coffee to make up for the early starts.

As a direct result, his game improves – he’s less hesitant around the other players and even manages to score his first goal in a game against Yale. He almost can’t believe it when it happens, but once the excitement sets in he’s riding the high the entire night.

After a while, he’s even promoted to first line, which he can’t quite believe. Eric almost thinks the coaches misspoke when he first hears it.

The only downside is Jack doesn’t seem to be impressed with this new information.

“Why is Bittle on my line?” he overhears Jack ask before the game, barely minutes after the decision had been announced. Eric tries to ignore the stab of hurt he feels at Jack’s tone.

“You’re a better player with him,” Coach Hall explains. “And he’s fast – we need someone with speed on your line.”

Jack seems to accept this, but Eric peaks over and can see a look on his face that makes his stomach drop. Weren’t they supposed to be friends now? Why is Jack still being such a jerk about everything?

But, as time goes by, Jack starts to warm to the idea. It’s strange how well they work together on the ice – it’s not like Ransom and Holster (they’re so perfectly connected that Eric secretly thinks that it’s not even just a soulmate thing, but purely a Ransom and Holster thing), but it’s something close. They’re better players around another and Eric slowly learns to stop getting nervous at every player that skates too close.

It’s in moments like that, when he doesn’t completely blank at a check that Eric feels a swell of pride at how far he’s come.

“You’re going well, Bittle,” Jack says on their way home from Faber one early morning. It’s about seven am, and Eric is _tired_.

“Does that mean I don’t have to wake up so early?” Eric asks.

Jack laughs. “We’ll see, eh?”

Eric rolls his eyes. “Can we get coffee now? I’m going to fall asleep right here if I don’t get coffee right _now_.”

“You want one of those pumpkin drinks again?”

“It’s spring, Jack.”

Jack frowns. “What does the season have to do with it?”

“Pumpkin spice is _seasonal_ ,” Eric explains, trying not to laugh. As his friendship with Jack has developed, he’s learned that Jack’s hockey robot thing means he really doesn’t have a clue about _anything_ other than hockey, except perhaps history (Eric still can’t quite believe he’s had to explain who _Beyoncé_ was to Jack. Beyoncé!) “And that season isn’t winter.”

“Oh,” Jack says. “What’s winter then?”

“Peppermint,” Eric says.

Once they’re inside Annie’s and Eric has his coffee (he doesn’t care what Jack says, coffee doesn’t _need_ to be black as dirt to be decent – besides, he totally knows Jack’s going to start stealing sips at some point), he notices Jack’s arm. It’s warmer inside, and he’s rolled his sleeves up and Eric can’t help but notice the mark there.

Eric doesn’t mean to pry, but he can’t help it (he can just imagine his mom telling him it’s rude to stare). Normally, it’s something he doesn’t really look out for on people, mostly because he’s trying to be polite, and also he doesn’t want to draw attention to his own mark (which is why he often makes a point of covering it up as much as possible). He knows the boys would mean well, but he doesn’t want to talk about whoever that mysterious ‘one’ might be.

Except now he think he’s worked it out.

 _Oh no_ , he thinks, stomach sinking as he takes in the sight of the pie tin on Jack’s arm.

He knows he shouldn’t jump to conclusions, but this can’t be a coincidence.

It makes too much sense – the way he and Jack play on the ice isn’t some fluke, and this easy friendship they have isn’t just a result of spending so much time together.

Part of him wants to say something, but he can’t get the words out. He tries to take another sip of coffee to cover his panic, but he nearly ends up chokes on it.

“Coffee too hot, Bittle?” Jack asks, completely oblivious to Eric’s revelation.

“Something like that,” he says.

Later that night, as he lies in bed, Eric tries not to feel disappointed. He’s always known a platonic soulmate might be a possibility, but he’s always dreamed of something else – something like his parents have (that simple, warm affection that only two soulmates can really know. In his mind, he’s falling in love with his soulmate, growing old together and understanding them in a way only he can. That he’d get everything he’s ever wanted in one person.

 _Platonic soulmates are just as valid as romantic ones_ , he can almost hear Shitty say. Eric knows that, but he can’t help but feel disappointed anyway. Despite Ransom and Holster’s attempts at setting him up, there has been no one else he’s really _clicked_ with. Eric had thought it meant he’d just need to wait to re-meet his soulmate and everything would work itself out.

It was part of what made life in Madison easier – knowing he’d find someone, someday that would take him away from all of that. To know absolutely there was life beyond covert staring at boys when he was feeling brave enough and secret crushes he couldn’t breath a word of to anyone. Not that he has a crush on Jack – he’s _just_ a friend.

In that moment, he knows absolutely that can’t tell Jack. Jack knows Eric’s sexuality and has been fine with it this entire time and absolutely never made it a part of his criticisms of Eric himself. That was all about hockey.

But this is different. Jack might think he’s in love with him. And Jack is straight. Possibly one of the straightest people Eric’s met.

 _He can’t know_ , Eric thinks desperately, and resolves never to speak of it to anyone.

Things could get weird, and Eric _cannot_ have that. Not when everything is going so well now. If Jack finds out, then everything will change, and he can’t have that. Jack’s too important to him, and in light of this new information, Eric knows he can’t ruin things if it means losing Jack’s friendship. If the mark on his arm is correct (and it always, _always_ is), this is the most important relationship of his life and he can’t let that go.

//

Bittle’s been acting weird lately. Jack’s not sure what happened – one minute, they were fine, but suddenly it’s like Eric’s holding something back.

Jack wants to ask, to figure out what’s going wrong, but he doesn’t want to push him away. Bittle is a friend, but Jack isn’t sure if they’re the sorts of friends who can talk like that. Besides, Jack knows he isn’t good with feelings, and he doesn’t want to make Bittle uncomfortable.

Thankfully, this discomfort doesn’t translate to the ice – they’re still playing better than ever, so Jack decides not to bring it up. Maybe it’ll pass in time. But even so, he can’t help but notice it – there’s something about Bittle’s smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes sometimes. Their checking clinics aren’t as frequent now – after all most of what they need to do is focus on the playoffs – but Eric is even more subdued in those times than normal.

Jack wants to chalk it up to exhaustion from all the other practice, but something in his gut tells him otherwise. Bittle never says anything about it – instead, his issues, whatever they may be, translate to pies of all kinds appearing at all hours of the day in the Haus kitchen. It’s almost normal now to have the scent of freshly baked goods in the air at any given moment. Nobody else seems to mind this development – before, people usually had to _ask_ Bittle to make his amazing pies. Now, he’s baking almost all the time.

So since it doesn’t really seem to be hurting anyone, Jack leaves it alone and lets things go on, throwing himself into hockey. This season has been his best yet, and they’re so close to the Frozen Four that Jack can count the number of games they have to win on one hand. He doesn’t want to get too hopeful, but just the thought of how few games they need to win now makes his heart beat painfully fast in his chest.

He’s known success before, but it’s different now – back then, he’d have pushed himself raw and used his anxiety meds to starve off the aftermath. But of course he’d overdosed and it all fell apart – so he understands the fragility of success, that at any moment, everything could be lost. So he pushes his teammates on, working to get the very best out of all of them on the ice.

It’s all going well, up until one of the last rounds of the playoffs. It’s the last period of the game, and they’re pretty much neck and neck with the other team. Bittle’s darting around on the ice, somehow always right where Jack needs him.

But then Jack passes Bittle the puck and he gets checked. It’s a brutal thing to watch – the other player slams into him and Bittle goes flying.

Jack can feel his own stomach swoop, the familiar edge of panic setting in as Eric lands painfully on the ice.

“Bitty,” Jack says, fear sinking into his bones as he watches Bittle get taken off the ice.

It turns out to be a pretty nasty concussion, and Bittle spends the next week recovering, though they all know he’s out for the rest of the season. Everyone’s sad about it and it puts a damper on the team spirit.

They lose the next round. Jack tries not to feel disappointed, but he can’t help but over-analyse everything he could’ve done better.

After that fateful game, Jack almost doesn’t want to see people and he’s shaking terribly, but somehow Bittle finds him after the game, though god knows how he found Jack, and sits with him. He doesn’t say anything, just stays with him.

“Thanks, Bits,” Jack says softly once the vague and horrible panic passes.

“It’s alright,” Bittle says, and lays a hand on Jack’s arm, just above his Soulmark.

//

It’s a strange thing, _knowing_ someone is your soulmate and having them be totally oblivious to the fact. Eric feels like he’s about to explode half the time – the secret is right there, on the tip of his tongue (“Jack, you’re my soulmate”) but he holds the words back. It also doesn’t help that a few of his more dedicated followers have noticed the fact his mark has settled and he’s been constantly dodging questions about it all summer from his family.

His mother nearly cried when she noticed it and asked more questions than he knew how to answer. Eric likes to think he did a good job at avowing them – it’s not that he’s ashamed of having a platonic soulmate, but in Madison people have _ideas_. So, he goes along with it and makes up a story about how he hasn’t found them yet and pretends to gush over the possibilities with his cousins. It’s sort of exhausting.

In all of this, Eric’s had a lot of time to think. It’s a new school year, and he’s determined to be better. He’s had that entire summer to forget his disappointment at having a platonic Soulmate, resolving to mention it to Jack at some point. He’s not sure when, but he makes a promise to himself that he _will_ say something.  

It makes sense to mention it, just so Jack _knows_ . It’s not fair to keep him in the dark about all of this, especially when he’s probably wondering why his soulmate hasn’t found him again. They’ve never really talked about it before, but sometimes Eric’s seen Jack glance down at his mark and look a little sad. And it’s not like he’s ever really had a crush on Jack (Eric determinedly does _not_ think about that first meeting with Jack and how attractive he was and still is). They’re just friends, and surely Jack knows him well enough by now to know that it’s not at all romantic on Eric’s part. Jack to know that being gay doesn’t mean he’s going to fall for every boy he meets.

Besides, they’re going to be living together now, thanks to Eric getting dibs on one of the free rooms in the Haus from the old goalie, Johnson. It feels out of nowhere, but Johnson assures him he’s earned it and that “the narrative needs it, man. You gotta move in.”

So he moves into the Haus, feeling excited at the fact he’ll be able to bake at literally any time of day or night. Sure, he’s had access to Betsy (as he affectionately calls the oven) and the rest of the kitchen before, but it’s different now that’s he’s _living_ here. If he wanted to, he could bake a pie at three am. The possibilities are _endless_.

Another thing about living in the Haus is that sees Jack all the time now – which isn’t much different than before, but now he’s literally sleeping across the hall from him. The first few weeks are strange – knowing Jack’s his soulmate, that he’s _right there_ across the hall at night as opposed to halfway across campus is an odd feeling. His MooMaw call it part of the soulmate bond and that it probably means he needs to be closer to his soulmate (though he can’t imagine she’d say the same thing if she knew Jack was a man. He loved her, but she was just…old fashioned like that).

Pretty quickly, they’re falling into a new pattern. Checking clinics early in the morning, coffee right after and chatting after dinner most nights. More often than not, Eric finds himself seeking Jack out more and more, texting him often, going out for coffee after class, and even studying together. It’s hard not to fall into orbit with Jack – or maybe it’s the reverse. Either way, Eric appreciates this closeness more than he can say.

//

Jack almost can’t believe it’s his senior year of college, and that even more so, he’s not ready for it to be over. Playing on Samwell’s team these past few years has been an experience like nothing else. There’s just a sense of rightness about being here that he can’t shake, and the thought of leaving for the NHL leaves a bittersweet taste in his mouth.

On one hand, he’s ready to go professional, to take back his dreams and prove to everyone he, Jack Zimmermann, can do it. But Samwell has been good to him – so much more than he rightfully deserves and he isn’t ready to just forget all of that.

“You’re gonna be alright, Zimmermann. You and your perfect ass are going places,” Shitty assures him. “We’ll always be here for you.”

“What about this?” he says, looking down at his Soulmark. It’s been over a year since it settled, and he’s still no closer to working it out. Part of him knows he should try, but there never seems to be enough time.

“You’ll get there,” Shitty promises. “These things work themselves out.”

Jack, uncomfortably, thinks about Kent. It’s been a long time since he’s really thought about the person that he used to think was made for him. It had been a strange start – their friendship was intense, and every day Jack spent with him he’d hoped the mark on his skin would finally settle. That maybe because they were so young it would take a while. That he just had to _wait_ and it’d make it so.

But it never had.

And then everything had fallen apart.

“I think I might need to do more than that,” Jack says, and traces the mark, and wonders.

//

Eric almost can’t believe how well the team’s been doing this year. The season so far has been almost nothing but wins and they’ve been playing so well that everyone’s starting to take notice. Though all eyes are really on Jack, the re-elected Captain, and potential NHL star. At this point, it’s not so much a matter of if, but when and where the offers will come from. He’s proud of Jack and how far he’s come, especially considering the rumours of his rocky past (it’s not something they’ve ever seriously discussed, but he’s worked out enough of the details to know that whatever happened wasn’t nice).

So, naturally, the team is good and ready to throw a full-on Kegster in honour of the team’s current successes.

“Dude, it’s gonna be the best Kegster ever,” Ransom says excitedly.

“EpiKegster 2014 bro,” Holster says, and they high five perfectly. “It’ll be _legendary_.”

“I love you both,” Shitty calls from his spot on the couch. He’s not quite naked, but it’s a near thing. Eric’s just amazed Shitty can lie there. He’s been campaigning to get rid of it even before he moved in.

“What’s a Kegster?” Chowder, their new frog goalie asks.

“Oh you sweet child,” Eric says, unable to help himself. For all his ferocity on the ice, Chowder is an incredibly gentle person and _definitely_ has no idea what he’s in for.

“Just you wait, Chowder,” Shitty replies.

The party is organised at lightning pace, and before Eric knows it, the entire time is crowded into the Haus along with more people than Eric thinks he knows the faces of. If this were a year ago, he’d have been scanning every single one of them for a sign that one of them was his soulmate. But he knows better now, and of course, when he looks for Jack’s face, he can’t see him anywhere downstairs.

Feeling brave, Eric goes upstairs and knocks on Jack’s door. He’s slightly drunk now, and all he really wants to do is talk to Jack, who seems surprised that Eric’s standing at his door, and inexplicably lets Eric drag him down into the festivities.

They talk for a while, and it’s so pleasant that Eric almost wants to stop drinking for the night – it’s just _nice_ , being around Jack. No amount of alcohol can compare to it. He just likes listening to Jack, hearing him talk about anything and everything.

 _Maybe I should tell him now_ , Eric thinks bravely as Jack tells a story about how the dent in Shitty’s door got there, and is about to say something when he notices _Kent Parson_ walking by. Now, Eric might not have known about the NHL before he came to Samwell, but it’s impossible not to recognise one of its star players now.

Kent Parson, of the Las Vegas Aces is standing inside the Haus. _Kent Parson_ , three-time Stanley Cup winner.

 _Lord, I’m getting starstruck_ , Eric tweets, unable to contain his excitement. _It’s Kent Parson_.

Jack seems less happy about seeing Kent. Eric suddenly recalls that they knew each other, once.

“Hey, Zimms,” Kent says with a smile.

“Hey Kent,” Jack says. It’s not exactly unfriendly, but Eric can sense the tension there, so he goes off to get more tub juice and leave Jack to it.

“Bro, enjoying it?” Shitty asks when Eric steps outside. He’s definitely high, and at least a little drunk too. He’d worry if it was anyone else, but Shitty knows his stuff.

“It’s great,” Eric reassures him and Shitty pulls him in for a hug.

“And go easy on the tub juice bro. This shit is intense,” Shitty tells him after he pulls away and pats the cooler affectionately. He and Lardo had brewed it in the tub upstairs, and Eric isn’t entirely sure what’s in it, but it’s bright green and smells strangely fruity.

“Of course,” Eric responds, thinking about Chowder and the other frogs, Dex and Nursey, making a mental note to pass the warning on (though he knows the latter too are probably better at holding their liquor than Chowder, if their hazing was any indication). This isn’t his first Kegster at the Haus, though it’s probably the biggest he’s ever been too. Ransom and Holster had invited over a thousand people on Facebook, and there were so many people around Eric is having trouble figuring out how they all managed to squeeze into the Haus.

Everything is sort of a blur after that, and Eric’s happily drunk, dancing to whatever dance music that’s playing through someone’s laptop. He’s having a great time and knows his tweets are slowly starting to get more and more incomprehensible as the night wears on.

“I found my soulmate!” someone calls out in the midst of the party at around one am. Eric turns to see a girl excitedly holding up one arm, and holding on tightly to the boy next to her. It’s Chowder, and he’s smiling brightly.

Everyone cheers for them as they kiss. It’s a strange moment to witness, and it puts a lump in his throat. On one hand, he’s happy for Chowder, who he firmly believes deserves every good thing coming to him. But. On the other, Eric knows he’ll never get that sort of moment – such a time was long since past him and he hadn’t even realised how important that moment was when it happened. There was no time to savour it, especially when he had no idea who’d made his mark settle.

And of course, there wasn’t going to be a kiss like that either. No earth-shattering moment like Chowder was having in the middle of the Haus right now, witnessed by a whole party’s worth of people.

Jack’s just his friend, and it’s not like he’d be kissing Jack anytime soon. No matter how much he wants—

 _Oh. Oh no_ , Eric thinks. It’s an echo of last time, when he’d first worked out who Jack was to him. But the pain is a little sharper now. He’d always known Jack was unattainable – a dream he’d never let himself have because Jack _wasn’t like that_ and that he had someone else out there who was supposed to be better for him anyway. But of course, it turns out _Jack_ is that person to him and it’s not at all a romantic connection.

Eric had been fine with that, or, he thought he had.

He doesn’t get why it took him so long to work it out. How could he not have see it coming? Jack was an amazing guy – tall, handsome and an incredibly good hockey player. Not to mention one of the best people Eric knew. It should’ve been obvious he was going to end up here.

They were supposed to be _friends_ and nothing. Eric shouldn’t be going around developing these stupid feelings for Jack.

Suddenly, the party felt a lot less fun, and Eric decided to make his way upstairs to get away from it all. People were all excitedly talking about soulmates and the perfect match, showing off their marks – both those with settled and unsettled ones.

“I don’t know who they’re going to be, but I know they’ll love me,” Eric overhears a girl say. “I can’t wait to meet them.”

“Could be a friend.”

“Nobody in my family has ever had a platonic soulmate,” the girl continues. “Besides, I just know I’m gonna fall in love with them, no matter who they are.”

“You’re such a romantic.”

“I can’t help it,” the girl replies, giggling.

Eric needs to leave. Right now.

He pushes through the crowd and breathes a sigh of relief when he makes it up the stairs. Already, the party feels far away and he begins to relax a little.

The he hears the voices coming from Jack’s room. At first he thinks it’s some random couple looking for a quiet place to hook up, but then he hears Jack speak, low and angry.

“It’s over, Parse. You can’t keep coming back here and telling me how to live me life.”

“I miss you, Jack. Is that what you want me to say? I fucking miss you.”

Eric knows he needs to leave right away, so he tries to hurry with the key, cursing the fact he’d locked his room earlier in the night.

“Just go, please.”

“Think about it at least – I can tell you who to talk to.”

Eric fumbles with the key.

“I’m not going to Las Vegas.”

He drops it, and it bounces over towards Jack’s door.

“Zimms – Jack –”

“Just go,” Jack says. “Please.”

Eric goes to pick it up when the door to Jack’s room swings open.

“Oh, well,” Kent Parson says, looking down at Eric and then quickly turns back to Jack. “Think about what I said Zimms.”

Jack doesn’t say anything; he just watches Kent walk away, face as pale as ash. Eric longs to reach out and comfort him, but he isn’t sure how.

“Jack…” Eric says halfway extending his hand out, but trails off. Jack doesn’t say a word, just turns around and shuts his door. Eric drops his arm.

For a moment, he considers knocking. But then he remembers the look on Jack’s face and decides it might be better to leave Jack alone. So, he goes back to fumbling with his lock and finally lets himself into his own room, his excuses for coming up here feeling weaker by the minute.

Clearly, there’s something left unsaid between Jack and Kent, and Eric hates himself for how much he wants to know just so he can figure out how to make it better.

 _It’s not my business_ , he tells himself. He might be Jack’s soulmate, but he doesn’t have a right to know every secret. If Jack wants to tell him something, he’ll listen. But he won’t push.

He doesn’t sleep well that night.

//

After Kent’s visit, Jack feels on edge for the rest of the week. He’s spent so long trying not to think about the past that having thrown in his face with Parse of all people showing up that he feels a little sick. He wants to explain himself to Bittle, to stop those pitying looks he keeps seeing shot his way, but he can’t put it into words.

He’s never told anyone the full story before. Shitty knows the most, but that’s far from everything. It scares him how much he wants to tell Bittle. He doesn’t understand the urge or where it comes from.

Somehow, he thinks Bittle might understand. _I could tell him anything_ , Jack thinks one day when they’re just sitting around studying. It’s a strange thought to have, especially about someone who isn’t his soulmate.

It makes him wonder what it might be like, finally knowing who that person is. He knows he’s probably running out of time to work it out, but somehow it doesn’t feel urgent. He’s _happy_ now – the team’s been doing better than Jack could’ve hoped, and everything else just seems to be falling into place. He’s not even sure how much better his life could get.

 _Maybe I don’t need to find them_ , he thinks. It’s a funny thought to have, and perhaps a little ironic. He used to lie awake at night, hoping and praying his mark would settle and he’d be a better person. And then now, after all that hoping  (and even abandoning the idea he’d meet someone entirely for a while), here he is not giving a damn about it. It’s a relief, to not feel blinding panic at the thought of finding the right person, because it suddenly doesn’t feel so damn necessary.

He’s got his friends now, people like Shitty and Bittle, as well as the rest of the team. So what else could matter more than that?

It’s hard to imagine anything could be better than this.

//

There’s something strange about the lack of things that change once Eric realises he’s in love with Jack. Life goes on, and the world keeps spinning. The only thing that changes is how aware he is of it all.

All those little facts he’s collected about Jack, those things he never quite let himself think have floated to the surface. Somehow, it’s the best and worst feeling. He knows he’s always going to love Jack, but he’s hoping these _feelings_ pass sooner rather than later. It’ll be easier that way, to be Jack’s soulmate without his heart beating too fast and these _thoughts_ clouding his head anytime Jack’s nearby. It makes him feel stupid and sixteen all over again, mooning over some guy on the football team. He should know better now – _never fall for a straight boy_ . It’s _supposed_ to be his cardinal rule.

 _I’ll get over it_ , he tells himself and does his best to shut down any and every stray thought about Jack. But it’s exhausting to try and not think like that – Jack is not someone he’s ever far apart from these days and so the captain is pretty much always at the forefront of his mind.

Desperate, Eric starts to bake more and more, trying to fill up the idle hours of the day with pies and cakes of every kind. It’s good for his baking skills, but perhaps a little fatal for his grades. He knows his teammates probably want to comment on it, but as soon as he slides them another perfectly baked pie they quiet down. Nobody is going to complain about free food.

 _I can do this_ , he thinks as he slides another apple pie out of the oven.

But this reprieve doesn’t last. Betsy gives up on him – she’s been on her last legs for a while now, but he’d been determined to work through it, letting Dex patch her up here and there using his incredible handiness. Only this time, it’s not working.

Eric wants to cry. To think the last thing he’d made in her were _bagel bites_.

Dex tells him it’s a lost cause. Eric’s heart sinks to the floor.

 _In more ways than one_ , he thinks.

//

“We should get Bittle an oven, since Betsy’s broken,” Jack suggests one day when most of the team is lounging around at the lake. Bittle’s absent, off baking in the student kitchens somewhere. “If we all chip in, we can do it.”

It’s been bothering him for a while now – all this pie baking he’s been doing that Jack’s seen before in times of stress. Jack hadn’t been there when the oven broke, but he’d seen Bittle’s face afterwards and it had made something in him ache. He doesn’t like seeing his friends sad, and someone like Bittle, who’s normally so happy shouldn’t be this sad.

“Excel says we owe him like, three,” Ransom adds.

“It’s his birthday soon,” Jack says, suddenly recalling the date.

“It can be a surprise!” Chowder says excitedly, eyes alight at the possibilities.

“All bets say he’s gonna cry,” Lardo adds.

So, Jack ends up in the middle of an electrical appliances store with a chatty sales assistant by his side explaining all the different kinds of ovens they have. Eventually, Jack settles on something sturdy and efficient, a Betsy 2.0. He’s not sure about brands, but the sales assistant tells him he’s made a good decision.

“Oh, nice. Pie tin, huh? Your soulmate a baker?” the sales assistant says, looking down at his arm. “That why you getting the oven?”

Jack freezes. “Pie tin?” he asks.

“Yeah, isn’t that what it is?” she says, frowning slightly.   

“I thought it was a hockey puck.”

The sales assistant’s frown deepens and she points to the mark on Jack’s arm. “It’s more like a pie tin. See? If you look close enough it’s a little less flat on the bottom.”

Jack’s mind races. How could he have missed this?

“I – I need to go,” he says, suddenly urgent.

The sales assistant’s eyes widen with realisation and hurries to finalises the transaction. “It’ll be delivered on time. And good luck,” she says with a wink. “Go get ‘em.”

//

Eric’s just about to give up on his homework for the day when Jack suddenly appears at his door, flushed and breathing hard as if he’s been on a run, but Jack isn’t wearing running gear.

“I…Bittle,” Jack says. He looks out of breath and a little dazed. “You.”

“Me?” Eric says, not quite following Jack’s logic.  He stands up, ready to check if Jack has a fever or something, but his eyes are startlingly clear. Sometimes Eric forgets how _blue_ they are.

“It’s a pie tin,” Jack explains.

“What?” Eric blurts out. _Does he know?_

“My Soulmark,” Jack replies and rolls up his sleeve to reveal it his mark. Eric’s seen it countless times before, knows what it is and what it means, but it’s something else to have Jack acknowledging it.

He’s almost unable to make sense of it. Here’s Jack, telling him he knows what this means, that this mark on Jack’s skin is irrefutable proof of their bond.

Eric pulls up his own sleeve in response, exposing his wrist where the one sits. “I knew,” he says softly.

“You should’ve told me,” Jack replies, frowning.

“I didn’t want to make things weird!” Eric exclaims. Jack’s frown deepens.

“Weird?”

“You, um, you’re straight,” Eric says. “I’m gay. And if we’re soulmates, I didn’t want you gettin’ the wrong idea.”

Jack’s frown deepens. “I’m not straight,” Jack replies like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Wait – what – really?” Eric blurts out. “Does anyone else know?”

Jack pauses at that. “Not really,” he admits.

“Oh, well, um, thanks for telling me,” Eric says as calmly as possible. This moment doesn’t feel quite real. Jack’s not straight. Jack, Eric’s _soulmate_ isn’t straight. The words don’t make sense together.

That’s not how this is supposed to go.

“I should go,” Jack says and turns to leave, but Eric grabs his arm on impulse. Something tells him not to just let this go and he clings onto that hope. Jack turns back around and they’re practically face-to-face. Eric feels his heart rate pick up in response.

 _Stupid crush_ , he tells himself. But Jack isn’t moving away.

“Um, was there something else?” Eric asks, trying to ignore how embarrassingly breathless he is at their proximity.

Something in Jack’s expression changes again and –

He’s kissing Eric. At first At first, it’s just a soft press of lips, barely even a proper kiss and Eric feels Jack’s hesitation, the way he tenses and gets ready to pull back, but Eric pulls at Jack’s arms and pulls him closer. He’d feel embarrassed about it, but he’s kissing _Jack Zimmermann_ and there isn’t much room for coherent thought, just action.

For an immeasurable amount of time, they stand there, kissing. Jack, having got Eric’s hint about this kissing being something he wants (Lord. Does he _want_ it), is cupping Eric’s face and pulls him in close. They’re pressing right up against each other now, absolutely no room between them.

 _This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me_ , Eric thinks.

After a while, Eric has to pull away because he’s smiling too much to focus on kissing. He starts to laugh – he never thought he’d get this, and somehow he’s here, kissing Jack Zimmerman, his _soulmate_ in his bedroom on a Wednesday afternoon.

“What’s wrong?” Jack asks.

Eric smiles and presses his face into Jack’s chest. “Nothing, sweetheart,” he replies. “I just wish we’d worked this out sooner.”

Jack frowns. “You knew I was your soulmate.”

“But I didn’t know you were interested in men!” Bitty argues. “I thought you were supposed to be my friend.”

“I don’t want to be your friend. I, uh, want to date you. If that’s okay,” Jack says, suddenly shy.

“Of course it is,” Eric says, smiling brightly. Unable to help himself, he goes in for another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Even though this fic is done, I'm not sure I'm quite ready to leave the whole 'verse yet. It turns out I have a lot of feelings about soulmate AUs for someone who's never written one before. So, if you're interested, keep an eye out bc I have a few ideas of where I want to go. 
> 
> find me on tumblr @ agentalien


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